Destination Discipline

I clutched the bags of cookies, trying to cover them with my hands. I stood in the cafeteria, scanning to make sure no one I knew was around before jumping in line. Suddenly, she appeared out of nowhere.

“Hello, Margaret. How are you doing today?” She glanced at the cookies in my hands.

“Fine. Just fine.” I said, not even bothering to shift them behind my back. “You know. Busy.”

She smiled. “Nice to see you.” She glanced at the cookies again and then walked away, leaving me with the knowledge that I had a witness to my food crimes.

This is what happens when you make your healthy lifestyle public. A partner at the firm you work for catches you with cookies and makes a mental note. Since our encounter I have been wondering if she will keep my secret safe. Or is she secretly plotting her revenge? After all, she is on the heavier side and I assume all heavy people hate me for losing the weight, much as I hated skinny people before I lost the weight. So I began to imagine future conversations. Here is one of them.

She walks into my cube and says, “Well hello Margaret.”

“Hello Ms. Partner.”

“I hope you are having a nice day. I need your help with something.”

“Well, I’m really rather busy right now. I’m trying to meet a deadline.”

She cocks her head to the side and studies me before leaning in to whisper, “Remember the cookies?”

I gulp. “What cookies?”

“You know what cookies.” She blinks. “I saw you with the cookies and if you don’t help me, I will tell your boss.”

I see my boss approaching at a distance. “Not that. Anything but that.” I say. “You know I lecture him constantly about eating unhealthy foods. If he finds out…”

She casually hands me a stack of papers. “I need copies. Lots of copies.”

This is how I feel every time I eat something unhealthy. I feel like people are watching and waiting. And even when no one catches me, I feel the guilt like a noose around my neck. It seems silly, really, but I’ve made a terrible habit of sneaking food for years. The sad thing is, it was never really a big secret.

My affinity for sweets is like a hurricane, a force of nature not to be reckoned with. I would never claim to have a handle on my addiction. It would be like saying I learned to breathe underwater. Just. Not. Possible.

Today I had a conversation with a friend. She is under significant pressure to lose weight. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I know the right foods to eat. I know how to lose weight. I just can’t.” My heart was like a cinder, smoldering in my chest. I know exactly how she feels. Some days I really don’t understand how I lost the weight, especially after I’ve inhaled 4 giant cookies, a bag of popcorn, two bowls of ice cream and a box of raisins. And that was only yesterday.

This morning I crawled from bed, sick in body and in heart. I hadn’t worked out in two days because I am fighting a third round of virus. This certainly is the winter of my discontent! But I rose from my warm covers, pulled on my workout clothes and took my buddy Tank for a walk. Tank is a young boxer and he has a lot of energy. The great thing about walking with him is that he get so excited that it rubs off on me. So within a block he coaxed me into jogging and soon we were huffing and puffing away down the streets of Ferguson. I can’t say I was particularly thrilled. The weight of each cookie resonated in each footfall as I mentally whipped myself for caving to my flesh. My cadence sounded something like, “Stupid cookies! Stupid cookies! Stupid cookies!” All I can do is shake my head and begin again. Again.

Guilt is a sick and powerful feeling and yet a wonderful motivator. But I can’t let it rule me. There comes a time when I have to accept that I am sometimes completely powerless over my desire for sugar. I have to accept it and move forward. But the reason I don’t give up–don’t give in forever–is that I love my life. I love hiking with my children at the park and not growing tired. We did that Saturday. I love running up and down the stairs at work. I love fitting into size 12 clothing, a size I thought I would never fit into. I love encouraging people who think losing weight is impossible. And it’s not because I’m a super, crazy, health freak and I only eat Brussels sprouts and lima beans. No, it’s because I intimately understand the struggle. I wage war against my body every day. Some days my body wins. Some days my will to keep the fat off wins. But no matter which way the teeter totter swings, I know who I am. I am imperfect. I am human. Fat or thin, I am Margaret, and I am loved! And that’s all that really matters.

Resilience is such a great word. When we say a person is resilient, it usually means we like them. We are drawn to people who triumph over adversity. Maybe it’s because we hope some of that will rub off on us. But I would venture to guess that the person going through the actual act of working towards resilience is feeling the burn, so to speak. After all, the definition of resilience is, “the capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress.”

Stress. Now isn’t that another fun word? It means, “physical force or pressure”. So to be resilient, a person must be able to endure stress of some kind and not become a bitter hag. Have you ever met a bitter hag?

I have. And they’re not pretty, no matter how attractive they are on the outside.

Emotional resilience and physical resilience can go hand in hand. We have all met people crippled in spirit and no matter how healthy they are, their brokenness affects every aspect of their life. I freely admit, it’s easy to be broken. It’s easy to lay on the floor, shattered in a million pieces. After all, picking up those broken pieces and trying to reassemble them looks a lot like hard work.

I have been recovering from sickness and I don’t feel particularly resilient. There is a weakness in my body that persists even though the worst of the virus and residual infection are gone. While doing my strength training workout this morning, my muscles kept wobbling. I was sweating and just plain tired. All from a few little crunches I could normally do in my sleep. My body is tired from fighting illness and it has resulted in a much weakened Margaret. I’m tired and I don’t like it. It feels a lot like when I first started working out….gross and stupid.

But it’s not just physical. It’s mental too. I find myself fighting through dark thoughts like these:

“I just don’t care anymore.”

“This is too hard.”

“I’d rather eat ice cream.”

“It’s not fair that I have to work so hard to stay in shape while other people can eat whatever they want.”

“I. Give. Up.”

“I hate my body.

I fought my way through my workout this morning and finished it. It was really challenging. I shut down the negative thoughts as best I could and then I went to work. I stood on my shaky legs, with my fists balled up and said, “I am Margaret! This too shall pass.”

And then I encountered a “bitter hag.” A bitter hag is someone who can only see the negative. A bitter hag has a spirit that has been amputated. They retch all over the people they come into contact with, vomiting up garbage like cats cough up hairballs(only messier). And because this person is someone I am intimately acquainted with, this person focused all of their venom in that specific way that feels like someone carving out a piece of my heart. And all of those negative thoughts I felt I had conquered rushed into my ears and crushed me. Bitter hags are really good at crushing people. I advise that you avoid them at all costs. If you can.

Resilience is also “the ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change.” Resilience means taking a mental shower after encountering bitter hags. But what if you can’t escape such a person? What happens when they are your boss, your child, your best friend? Even more importantly, what if you love them?

We can’t fundamentally change people. We can only change who we are in response to them. And if I let people goad me into becoming a bitter hag, everyone loses. But there is no denying, bitter hag-itis is contagious.

Josh Wilson has a song I really like. It inspires me not to give in to the dark thoughts that populate my mind.

“One million reasons why, you shouldn’t even try. After all you’re just one heart, a single candle in the dark. And there are shadows here, feeding on your fears, That you don’t have what it takes – who are you to make a change? But oh, oh, don’t underestimate the God you follow. Whatever you do, just don’t look back. Oh somebody needs the light you have. Whatever you do, just don’t lose heart. Keep on pushing back the dark, Keep on pushing back the dark.”

Because that’s what it really is…acting as a light that pushes back the dark. Darkness is oppressive. Darkness(like weakness) crushes people no matter how resilient they are. And that is my 103rd reason why I can’t walk this road without Jesus. He picks up my broken pieces and puts me back together. So it’s not really about me working so hard to be resilient, but instead, allowing God to change who I am in response to my personal weakness and the inevitable bitter hags I encounter in this life.

Tomorrow I’ll get up and try again. And I realize some people might say I’m resilient because I haven’t given up yet, but let me tell you something, life is still hard. Thank goodness for a God who hears my cries and has reached down from heaven to help me keep pushing back the darkness.

Meet Tank. He’s my new fitness buddy. He is a beautiful brindle boxer and he is full of beans. That means he has lots and lots of energy. That is great news because we are a high energy household. One of the very things things we did was get him a few toys. The next thing I knew he was running back and forth with my youngest beastlet fetching and wrestling and tackling. Boys and puppies! They are not happy if they’re not trying to pin someone to the ground.

On Sunday I pulled out the yoga mat and showed Tank how to do crunches. He displayed good form.

And I’m sure he’ll have washboard abs in no time. Speaking of abs, my oldest beastlet has been doing crunches again(there must be a girl) and is set on having the physique of a greek god. I tell him, “I have washboard abs too. They’re just hiding under the fat.”

After my mat work I looked at Tank and said the magic words. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

I don’t think Tank knows what walk means yet but I put on his new harness and away we went. We did the full tour of Ferguson and I think I had more fun than the dog. I can tell he’s not used to walking on a leash much yet but he’ll get the hang of things.

Here is us after the walk. I actually think this walk is what made me really sick. I’ve been fighting a virus for the past week and a half and now I have bronchitis. I had to go to the doctor yesterday and get real medicine. The great thing about going to the doctor is, well, my doctor. Doctor Hana is the best! She is so supportive of my healthy lifestyle.

She said, “I haven’t seen you in a while.” I said “Right. I’ve been trying to stay healthy.” She chuckled and said, “I see you’re keeping the weight off.” And I proudly declared, “I’m never going back to the way I was. Never.” I really like my doctor. I love how proud she is of me. Also, I love that I’m not afraid of the scale in her office anymore.

Today I am sitting at home, sick, but counting my blessings. I am so glad we have a new canine friend in the house. My children are laughing. My husband dares to smile. And me? I still miss my friend, Hodges, but it’s good to move forward. I look forward to sharing more about my new buddy and our adventures.